


I am a lost cause, singing to the choir

by BananasofThorns



Series: Arcanist's Lullabye [1]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Character Study, Gen, Set in the nebulous future (post-Traveller Con?), Vague spoilers through episode 99, could be widofjord if u wanted, in which I take a throwaway comment and run with it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:34:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24365140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BananasofThorns/pseuds/BananasofThorns
Summary: faith[feyth]noun1) confidence or trust in a person or thing2) belief that is not based on proof3) belief in [a] God or in the doctrines or teachings of religion---In which Caleb and Fjord sit in the crow's nest, watch the sunset, and talk about gods
Relationships: Fjord & Caleb Widogast
Series: Arcanist's Lullabye [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1759177
Comments: 11
Kudos: 73





	I am a lost cause, singing to the choir

**Author's Note:**

> [title from Destroy Me - grandson]
> 
> I've been many thoughts head full about Caleb's possible connection to the Archeart for a while,,,,,,,,,,so here we are. I've also been many thoughts head full about the fact that the basis of Fjord and Yasha's faith for their respective gods was being saved and how this could also apply to Caleb,,,idk y'all the point is: Many Thoughts Head Full
> 
> also there needs to be more fics w Caleb/Fjord friendship

Fjord hasn’t seen Caleb all day, so it’s not all that surprising when he climbs into the crow’s nest only to nearly step on Caleb’s hand. The wizard jerks back, sliding his notebook out of the way. Fjord offers him an apologetic grin.

“Mind if I join you?”

Caleb looks up, his face disturbingly blank for a moment before he softens, lips curling into the barest hint of a smile.

“Be my guest,” he says, shifting to make room. Fjord settles onto the pillows. After a long moment of silence in which they just watch each other, Caleb asks, “Did you need something?”

“Oh, no, uh,” Fjord clears his throat, “I was just looking for somewhere quiet. It’s been a long couple of weeks.”

He rubs at his chest, swallowing down the phantom pain. Caleb’s eyes follow the motion for a moment before he turns away, closing his book and setting it to the side. Now that Fjord looks closer, it doesn’t look like Caleb’s usual spellbook.

“Ja, that is understandable,” Caleb says, and then nothing else.

He lays back as far as he can in the cramped space and closes his eyes, one hand resting on his stomach and the other behind his head. After a moment, Fjord leans against the crow’s nest railing and tilts his head back, watching the clouds shift against endless blue sky.

Time blurs. The silence is companionable, if occasionally interrupted by noises from the rest of the ship. Nothing drastic happens and Fjord finds himself drifting. Sunset has started to bleed into the late afternoon sky when Caleb speaks.

“I have been thinking,” he starts, rolling onto his side to face Fjord. “You are a religious man now, ja?”

Fjord fingers the Wildmother symbol Caduceus had gifted him, claws catching on the crystal.“Yeah, I guess I am.”

Caleb hums and lays back down, studying the pink and orange clouds above them. He slides a hand into a small pocket on his pants and pulls out, of all things, a medallion. Fjord doesn’t recognize the symbol on it, but it registers in his mind as something religious.

“You have a god?” He asks, surprised. 

Caleb makes a noncommittal noise, holding the symbol up to his face. “I don’t, but....” He trails off but, after a moment, starts again. “You know, I never really thought about religion, as a child. I knew about the gods, of course, but I had bigger concerns and interests than them. And...Trent,” he says the name as he always does, like it’s acid in his mouth, “only talked about the gods to teach us which deities were outlawed. People who worshipped them were traitors, and they were to be dealt with accordingly.”

He says this, dully, as if he’s reading from a long-internalized list of rules. Something in Fjord’s chest freezes and recoils, but Caleb continues like nothing is wrong.

“And then I broke, a bit, and I don’t remember so well what happened in those years. I did not think much about the gods, I know that. But the woman who healed me, she—” his voice cracks and his fingers curl into a fist around the medallion, knuckles going white, “she had a symbol of the Archeart tattooed on her wrist. It was the first thing I saw when the clouds were lifted.”

Caleb opens his hand, holds it out to Fjord. The dying light paints the symbol in deep, bloody purple, but it’s easy to see the two crescent moons laid atop a pointed cross. The circle of metal is shiny and untarnished despite the many scrapes the Nein and Caleb himself have gotten into.

“I got that in the Labenda swamp,” Caleb explains. Then, “In the same place we found the first sphere, if I am not mistaken.”

The phantom ache in Fjord’s chest flares. Caleb closes his fingers around the Archeart’s symbol and tucks it back into its pocket.

“I am not sure why I took it. The only connection I have to the Archeart is that one of their clerics saved me but,” he shrugs the best he can when laying down, “is that really enough basis for faith?”

He rolls back onto his side. Even in the dim, fading light of sunset, his eyes are piercing blue.

“I’m, uh.” Fjord rubs the back of his neck, searching for the right words. “Maybe not the best person to talk to about this, but. I never really thought about the gods until meeting you all, and even then they weren’t a priority. I’d never had any experience with them until Uk’otoa, if he counts, and then after that the Wildmother. She freed me from Uk’otoa, and,” he gestures to the Wildmother symbol hanging from one of the red ropes around his waist, “here I am. I know your experience wasn’t as hands-on in terms of godly intervention, but I’d say getting saved isn’t the worst place you could find your faith.”

Caleb says nothing, eyebrows scrunched in thought, so Fjord adds, “I still don’t know what the hell I’m doing, but the Wildmother doesn’t seem to care much, as long as I try, y’know? I doubt the Archeart is any different.”

“I suppose,” Caleb agrees, somewhat distantly. Then, from a train of thought Fjord isn’t following, “Yasha, as well. The Stormlord saved her, though before that she had no connection to him. I’ve never had dreams, or visions, or spoken to any gods. Except for the Traveller, maybe, but I do not think that counts.”

He falls silent again. Fjord searches and comes up empty for anything else to say.

The sun has fully set when he thinks to ask, “What’s the Archeart the god of, anyway?”

“The fey and the arcane,” Caleb answers distantly, without thought, staring at the stars as though they have the answers he needs.

Fjord grins, nudging Caleb’s wrist with the toe of his boot. “Seems fitting, doesn’t it?”

Caleb hums, eyes unfocused. “Perhaps.”

**Author's Note:**

> fun fact originally this was set on like a grassy, maybe flowery hill under a tree bc that was my first mental image for this but I couldn't figure out how to explain that setting into the narrative so crow's nest it is
> 
> feel free to talk to me in the comments or on tumblr @bananasofthorns!! i am ready to ramble about many things including caleb's pov on this exchange (though that's most likely something I will not end up writing)


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